


The Confession

by soulgyrl



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-11
Updated: 2017-11-11
Packaged: 2019-01-31 22:53:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12691836
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soulgyrl/pseuds/soulgyrl
Summary: Written for Sherlockian Things prompt number 6: Sherlock and Donovan get stuck in an elevator together. This takes place soon after Sherlock's name has been cleared and he returns from Serbia. This is the first time the two have met since the incident.





	The Confession

“Oh, _bugger_.” Sally Donovan cried out as she went sprinting for the rapidly closing lift doors. “Could someone in there… please… wait?” Instantaneously a hand appeared between the doors stopping their progress. Another hand immediately joined the first and forced the doors apart. There, large as life, was the last person she wanted to see: Sherlock Holmes.

“Hello, Sally. Going down?”

Sally let out a loud audible sigh and slowly shook her head.

“Eh…yes, Sherlock, if you don’t mind.”

In answer, he turned to the side, gesturing here to step in.

Sally took a stand opposite Sherlock; they were the only two passengers. Sherlock pressed the lobby button and the lift started its descent.

“So,” Sherlock started, breaking a few seconds of awkward silence, “are you here on business or pleasure?”

“Ah. Both I guess. I had some files to pick up for Gre...ah, Lestrade. And my mum’s here; it’s her heart.”

“Oh, I’m…very sorry to hear that.”

Sally turned to face the detective. “Look, Sherlock, you _really_ don’t have to….”

But, she never finished as a horrendous roar, followed by an equally terrible screeching sound, interrupted her speech. Sherlock later described it as “metal ripping apart metal”.  After what seemed like several minutes, but was in fact only about twenty seconds, the screeching ended, the lift gave a violent jerk and stopped.

The sudden motion threw Sally to the floor and she banged her head against the railing on the way down. Sherlock was instantly at her side.

“My god, Sally…are you alright?”

She lifted herself up onto one arm. “I…ah…I think so. No...not really. I think my head met with the rail.”

Sherlock gently pulled her towards him and saw the blood.

“I’m going to examine your head, Sally. Looks like you’ve gotten gashed a bit.”

 He moved behind her and gently parted her hair. The cut looked wide, but not too deep. He removed his scarf and started wrapping it around her head, turban style, to help both stop and catch the flow of blood.

“Whoa, wait a minute, “she yelped. “What are you doing? That’s your scarf. Isn’t it…sacred or something?”

“You’re injured. It’s just a scarf, Sally. More where that came from. Now, I am going to have you lie down on your stomach and I am going to call for help.”

He took off his Belstaff and, placing it on the floor, smoothed it out the best he could. Once again Sally started to protest.

“Blood...on your…your coat?”

“Really, Donovan, it’s fine.” He helped her to get into as comfortable a position as her condition would allow, then went over to the lift’s alarm button and pushed it.

“Hopefully that will make someone aware of our existence here. Not sure what the issue is.”

“It’s been very stormy today, maybe the powers gone.” Sally offered.

“The generators should be kicking in if that’s the case. I’ll try my phone, but I doubt I’ll have service.”

He was right; no cell service. He sighed and sat down close…but not too close….to his injured companion.

Silence…..again. Neither party knew quite what to say. Any small talk that could be had was out of the way. Sherlock’s mind was surprisingly, or not, unsure how to proceed, and Sally…well, Sally was too uncomfortable, discomfited…humiliated…to speak. She had treated the man badly…no, horribly… and she knew it. Although she had been appeased of the fact that her previous actions ended up _not_ being instrumental in causing the detectives _actual_ death, she had not been able to come to terms with herself in the deplorable aftermath the whole business had brought upon her. Lestrade, she knew, was still upset with her, and Anderson had quit the force altogether…also due to her interfering.

And yet, here the man was…offering up his expensive scarf and coat to shelter her wounded head. She knew when she was beaten.

“Sherlock,” she started, “I’ve never really….”

“Hush now,” he said, putting a finger to his lips, “there’s no need…”

“Please,” she broke in, “I _do_ need to do this. My past behavior was unprofessional and caused harm to so many people. I truly am sorry, Sherlock. I don’t expect you to forgive me, but I hope we can move past it and, at the very least, work together civilly when needed.  I…I don’t know what else to say.”

Sherlock stood and rocked back and forth on his heels. He didn’t want to start something that could prove…uncomfortable for the two of them, but as Sally was the one who brought the subject up in the first place…

“Actually, Sally, what is…or was…it about me that you found so… objectionable? I know I have been a bit...sarcastic on occasion, but that came _after_ I realized you found my very presence repulsive. Although…I do understand that I’m not always the most…pleasant human. At times.”

Sally attempted to sit up, but Sherlock sat down next to her and motioned for her to stay.

“You really don’t know, do you?” She sighed and brought a hand to her face and rubbed it across her forehead. “Can I _please_ sit up now?”

“Let me check your head first.”

Carefully, Sherlock unwrapped the makeshift turban and examined the gash. The cut appeared to have quit bleeding, so Sherlock rewrapped the turban.

“Okay, I think you should be alright to sit up now. But leave the turban in place. And… there’s no need to answer. This probably isn’t a very suitable situation in which to pour your heart out anyway.”

Sally sat up and pulled her knees to her chest, resting her forehead on them.

“I have to do this. I admit the reasons are a little bit selfish.”

Sherlock chuckled. “Selfish as in trying to appease a guilty conscience?”

“Something like that…yes.”        

“Well then, it would be _selfish_ of me to try and stop you.”

Sally sat up and changed positions; cross-legged this time. She looked Sherlock in the eye.

“I was in love with you.”

“What? Were you? Really?” Sherlock questioned.

 “I can say that out loud now because I no longer am, but yes, Sherlock, I was. I did everything I could to show it; short of actually saying it, but you…I don’t know, never responded. Worse, it was as though you didn’t even… _notice_. Or at least it didn’t seem like it.”

Sherlock shook his head slowly.

“Actually, I…uh…did suspect….something. Once. But then you started being quite…hostile towards me and I assumed I had…misunderstood.”

“I wouldn’t use the term ‘hostile’. I just…. I thought you were just being incredibly…well, callous.”

“So instead of showing affection, you decided that accusing me of being a liar, a fake, and a murderer was a better road to go? You know I’m no good at…relationships, Sally. I would have thought that would have been quite evident.”

“Can I ask you something, Sherlock? Personal, I mean?”

“I suppose so.”

“Have you ever been in a relationship…of any kind?”

“I had a girlfriend when I was sixteen. It didn’t last very long. Six months maybe. And, then I found out she was cheating on me. Probably because I wasn’t giving her what she wanted.”

“Which was?”

“Sex.”

“Oh,” Sally chuckled.”

“Honestly, it was for the best. Her leaving I mean. I certainly wasn’t interested in getting intimate. I only started going out with her because I was getting accused of being…”

“A weirdo?”

“Weird. Different.  A freak. I guess for once in my life I just wanted to fit in. Aaand…I found out that I just…..really…didn't. So, I turned my time and talents to other things; having ‘friends’ became not only no longer necessary, but undesirable.  Back to the way it had been all my life.”

“And then you met me and I eventually started calling you…”

“A freak. Yes,” Sherlock finished.

“Oh god,” Sally moaned, and lowered her head, “As if I didn’t feel shitty enough.”

“A clean slate, Sally; what do you say?”

“That’s the best offer I’ve had all day.”

“They looked at each other and laughed.

“If we get out of here…..”

“When, Sally, _when_ we get out of here. Someone must certainly know about our plight. We won’t languish in here forever.”

“Yes, of course. Anyway, _when_ we get out of here, would you permit me to make you dinner? Just as friends….a friendly dinner. I’m a very good cook. I won’t poison you, I promise.”

“Hmmm, I…suppose that would be…acceptable. As friends.”

That was as far as their conversation went, because right then the lift let out a tremendous squeal, lurched violently, sending Sherlock to his knees, and started its descent once again.  It went down two more floors and stopped. Someone banged loudly on the outside and a voice called in.

“Hello, everyone okay in there?”

“There’s a woman with a head injury. I’ve stopped the bleeding, but I’m afraid it will need stitches.” Sherlock yelled back.

“We will have you out of there real soon. Charlie here is getting ready to pry the doors open, so if you all would be so kind as to stand away from them.”

“What happened?”

“Malfunction. As soon as we get you out our team will set to work on fixing the problem.”

The doors started shaking and within seconds they were open. Sherlock helped Sally to her feet and out of the lift.

“Thank you,” he told their rescuers. “I’m going to take Ms. Donovan to get her injuries addressed.”

“I’m glad it wasn’t worse,” one of them replied.

*************************

Sally and Sherlock started down the hall when two nurses, one pushing a wheelchair, ran to meet them.

“We’ll take over and get you looked at properly ma’am,” one of the nurses stated. “Do you want to accompany us?” She inquired of Sherlock.

“It’s okay, Sherlock. I’ll be fine. You can go.”

“Well, if you’re sure. I’ll let Lestrade know. And…I…I’ll call you about dinner. Goodbye, Sally.”

“Goodbye, Sherlock.”

He got as far as the front doors and stopped. Sally was in no shape to travel home on her own. After her confession, which he was sure had to have been quite painful for her, making sure she got home safely was the least he could do. He turned and started back down the hallway.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
